That One in a Millionth Chance Every Store Would be Out of Hair Dye
by EmersFanFic
Summary: "Nooooo…" He whines, falling onto his bed face first and delves further into the covers. Kirishima slaps a pillow over his head and groans. This was not good. This was very, not good. He didn't think the day would come when he'd run out of hair dye. (Cover is owned by Tecochet on tumber!)


"_Nooooo…_" He whines, falling onto his bed face first and delves further into the covers. Kirishima slaps a pillow over his head and groans. This was not good. This was _very,_ not good.

He didn't think the day would come when he'd run out of hair dye.

His normal boxes are emptied and discarded into the trash bin in his bathroom, and his specialized conditioner is also dried out. It must have slipped his mind when their break began a few days ago that he'd ought to buy more dye, but now that he was out, Kirishima was in a desperate search for more. Maybe his local store had a box he could buy; it didn't have to be large, just enough to hold him off before his bulk package came in the mail. But, to his luck, they didn't have any in stock. Not only that, but the store didn't even have his conditioner.

He rubs a hand over his face, his loose hair brushing against his nose. By the time UA classes start up again, his hair is going to be completely back to its original color. No one there knows he dyes his hair regularly. It just hasn't come up. Sure, Kirishima wasn't going to just blurt out that his hair isn't naturally red, and that it was a large portion of his character, but no one has thought to ask him either.

He thanks a store employee before leaving the building. His phone buzzes from an incoming text and he peers down to his screen.

_Blasty: Oi shitty hair wanna meet up sometime _

Kirishima's cheeks flush as he gawks at the text. He can't meet up with him_ now_. If he did, Bakugou would notice how his roots have grown dark, and then he'd start asking questions and eventually the truth would be out and Kirishima would lose his cool, manly aesthetic. At least, that's what he told himself.

Shoving his phone into the depths of his jean pockets, he walks back home to order his dye online.

"Noooo-" He whines again, voice cracking as he weakly scrolls through his laptop, "_Whyy_?" It was as if something were out to get him. The boxes of hair dye he would normally use and buy were out of stalk as well! And the closest supplement wouldn't arrive until a week_ after_ being in UA. Slumping back into his seat, Kirishima accepts defeat, and purchases the dye.

He doesn't contact anyone for the next three weeks. The thought of confrontation was building an ache of anxiety inside his gut. He didn't want anyone to think less of him in all honesty. So, as the days grew closer to starting classes, his nerves grew as well.

By now, his hair is completely faded to its original color; black.

Kirishima loses the motivation to gel his hair up into its classic spikes. Why do it when they weren't the presentable red? Sliding his arms into the sleeves of his uniform, he stares into the mirror hung above his dresser. It was strange, to see himself this way. He hasn't looked like this since middle school, and no one at UA knew him then except for one person.

His heartbeat quickens as he exits his house to make his way to class. This is it. He wasn't going to get any hair dye until next monday which forces him to face his peers. What will they say? What will Bakugou think? Kirishima tightens his hold of his book bag straps at the thought, cheeks reddening.

Once kirishima is walking past the entrance of the high school, he spots Midoriya talking to Uraraka and Iida. He isn't necessarily early, arriving at the school, so it is shocking to see the three still talking by this time. His throat constricts and he can't seem to build the strength to say hi, so instead walks past them shyly with his eyes facing the pavement.

He can hear Uraraka whisper behind him, "Is he new?" and Kirishima almost stops mid step as he opens the door; wrist gripping the handle all too tightly. Was he_ that_ unrecognizable? Glancing up at the clock ahead, he realizes there's only five minutes until Aizawa was meant to walk into class.

With about a minute to spare, Kirishima finds himself standing in front of the doorway labeled 1-A. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opens the door and enters. It isn't immediate, but one by one, he feels his classmate's eyes on him. He flushes to the attention and nervously treads to his seat. Kaminari opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Aisawa saying "To your seats."

There, Kirishima sits and can practically feel everyone drilling holes into him. Did they not recognize him either? Maybe they didn't like his hair? What if Aizawa doesn't recognize him and asks who he is?

Just as the thought occurs, he makes eye contact with the teacher and swallows. His gaze is short, calculated, and then he proceeds with his lecture. Kirishima's nerves are getting the best of him, and he crosses his arms over his desk to compress it. It was more embarrassing that he'd thought, having his hair so exposed; as if he were a completely different person. That wasn't so far fetched because not even moments ago, Midoriya and his friends were questioning him.

The class is long, and at some point he decides to scope out the room. The dark hair over his face isn't too distracting, but he does have to move a strand out of his eye's view in order to see properly. Most of the class is working on the papers handed out by Aizawa. It was busy work, but that didn't bother Kirishima. After all, it allowed the teacher to finally get some rest.

Across the room, he feels a pair of eyes baring themselves into his skull, and he slowly shifts his gaze to meet Bakugou's. His head is resting on one of his hands, face stricken with an expression Kirishima can't quite place. Was he scowling at him? Was it concern? He looks away shyly, and feels his face heat up. He wishes he could've seen Blasty at some point during the break.

With his head facing away, Kirishima is now met with Iida's intense stare. Yet again, he has no clue what to read out of the expression. Iida's brows are knit together, and his mouth is flat in concentration. How is he supposed to know if their reactions are positive or negative? Kirishima decides to focus on his finished work that lays atop his desk. Maybe then, the class would end faster.

Class is dismissed for lunch, and Kirishima stands to leave the room. In a rush, he's swarmed by his classmates who all bombard him with questions.

"Who are you?"

"Are you new to the class?"

"Why didn't Aizawa address you?"

"Are you replacing Kirishima?"

"What's your name?"

His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs agape; unable to get a word in. His concerns were true: No one recognizes him. He blushes furiously, drawing a hand to nervously scratch the back of his neck when a figure shoves past the crowd.

"You fuck-tards. That _is_ Kirishima." Bakugou snaps. Once he's in front of the raven haired boy, who's growing even more flustered by the acknowledgement, Bakugou grabs onto his wrist and drags him out of the class room before anyone can ask him more questions.

Kirishima stays quiet as Bakukgou guides them down the halls. He didn't know what to say. He's probably mad because he ghosted him the entire break, or because he showed up to class without a hello, or maybe because of his hair-

Stopping in a more secluded area of the school, Bakugou turns around to face Kirishima; his eyes piercingly red. His hand pulls away from his wrist in order to cross it between both arms. He huffs, waiting for an explanation. In a breath, Kirishima is able to smell the familiar sweet caramel radiating off of Bakugou. It was odd that he wasn't wearing cologne, as he normally did throughout classes, but he saves the question for later.

Kirishima scratches his neck again, nervous. "Hey, Blasty."

"Don't fucking 'blasty' me." Bakugo gripes, tone tame beneath the snarky remark. Kirishima smiles to himself.

Looking anywhere but the blonde in front of him, Kirishima tries to spit out the words piling up in his head. "Ah- sorry, um, about not catching up during break, or replying to any of your messages, really anyone's messages.." he says the last bit to himself, losing focus on the topic.

In front of him, Bakugou's cheeks are dusting with soft shades of pink. "I don't fucking care about that." He mutters, eyes averting to the side with a huff. His defensive posture gives Kirishima the idea that he _did_ in fact care and his smile wavers. He doesn't get to apologize again because Bakugou is looking at him with that intense stare of his; always catching Kirishima off guard because how was he supposed to function when they're that vibrant. "So what's up with the new get up?" He gestures vaguely with a hand, then swiftly stuffing it into his pants pocket.

Kirishima flushes and shuffles his feet in embarrassment. He speaks under his breath, voice trapped in this throat and he can hear Bakugou step forward.

"Hah?" He questions and Karishima looks up, scrunching his nose and builds up the will to speak.

"I ran ou-uh, ah.." he begins, but his voice quickly draws out. His face feels as if it's on fire. How are such simple words so hard to confess? He still doesn't know how Bakugou feels about his hair, or anyone as a matter of fact. Kirishima takes a deep breath, caramel still in the air, and finally spits out a response. "I ran out of hair dye."

Bakugou's face contorts, and a smirk breaks through, "You dye your hair?"

Kirishima groans, raising his hands to slap them against his eyes in embarrassment. "Yes! And I ran out at the beginning of break and everywhere was out of stalk for some _ungodly_ reason, and even then, ordering it online doesn't even come in until next week. So I had to come into school today without anything and i didn't even bother to put my hair up-" his voice catches abruptly to the gentle touch of fingers to the side locks of his hair. Dropping his hands, he laughs awkwardly as Bakugou twists the strands of hair between his fingers.

"I'm a fucking idiot." he starts, shifting his eyes to meet Kirishima's, "And you are too, Shitty Hair, if you think this makes up for ditching me during break."

"I said I was sorry!" He complains. Bakugou drops the pieces of hair that were twined in his fingers, and drags his hand to slide the bangs out of Kirishima's face and above his head. Kirishima's cheeks flush and Bakugou's brows knit together in thought.

"It's not bad. I know you're thinking it, so shut it. If anyone says otherwise, I'll blast their sorry asses out of the school." he says, voice stern but hush. His cheeks are still pink and Kirishima wonders how much worse he is in comparison. Rolling his eyes, Bakugou releases his grip and starts walking off. "C'mon, let's eat."

Kirishima nods, and quickly steps up beside Bakugou. He can't hold back the smile that swells beneath his chest, and any doubts he held earlier blow off his mind with ease.

The rest of the week passes by relatively well. Everyone in class was so supportive of his hair, even if he was dying it again that up coming monday. Ashido claimed that she knew it was Kirishima as well, but wanted to see everyone's reaction (which was worth it, she told him shortly after).

He also realized throughout the week that his hair down was quite different than when it was spiked. He'd have to make sure it wouldn't get in the way during combat, and when it was he'd simply whip out his headband. While he totally could've just slicked his hair up with gel, the reactions out of Blasty whenever he put the band on were priceless; his face reddening and him losing concentration. He'd have to tell him at some point that he always wears his hair down during the night, maybe that way Bakugou would have an excuse to see him more. This was all speculation though, and without proper proof, Kirishima had no clue in knowing if Bakugou saw him the same way he did.

Eventually, monday rolls around and after classes he drags a large box up through the dorms and into his room. Hardening his finger, he cuts the tape and sighs with relief at the multiple containers of red hair dye. He smiles wickedly, grabbing a box and marching over to his bathroom.

It takes an hour, but once he's finished, the clock above his desk reads 11:47 pm and he decides that heading downstairs for a quick snack wouldn't be so bad. He roughly dries his hair with a towel before walking out his room to the lounge. He quietly steps into the kitchen and flicks the switch to turn on the lights. To his surprise, Bakugou's leaning against a counter, a cup of water in one hand, his phone in the other.

Kirishima smiles, "Hey man!". Looking up, Bakugou smirks, noticing the obvious shift of black to red hair on top of his head.

"Nice hair." He says, placing the glass behind him.

"Thanks! Why are you up so late?" Kirishima asks, opening the fridge door to examine the entrails. Beside him, he hears Bakugou huff.

"Craving shit, you?"

Kirishima closes the fridge and points a finger, gesturing to his red hair, "Just finished a few minutes ago. Thankfully the chemical smell isn't too strong against my shampoo." leaning forward he raises a hand beside his face and winks, "It's strawberry scented." Bakugou's cheeks flush and he jerks his head back down to fiercely look at his phone. Kirishima takes no notice and walks over in front of the blonde, resting his back against the kitchen island.

"So I forgot to ask before," He says, and Bakugou raises an eye, "How come you were able to recognize me last week, even though you've never seen me with my hair down, or black."

Shrugging, Bakugou takes no time answering,

"I know you. I mean, how many fucking people do you know that have that exact scar above their right eye?"


End file.
